


Everybody Knows You've Been Discreet

by ialpiriel



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Tentacles, Vines, descriptions of extreme violence as something sexually stimulating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 18:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10542159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel/pseuds/ialpiriel
Summary: Grim Alex comes back after running an assassinating for Delilah, and Delilah indulges her





	

The first vines whirl around Grim's legs--first on the right, then on the left, and she grins and snarls and throws herself toward Delilah’s statue. She’s stopped short by another vine, around her left arm, that pulls her back into the embrace of a fourth, that winds around her right arm. The vines--Delilah, the head of her statue grinding, cocking to the left, something in the bronze eyebrows or nose or mouth shifting until she looks pleased instead of bored--pull Grim’s arms above her head, wind her legs together, and lift her from the floor.

She twists, struggles, does her best to escape, tries to hide he smile as more vines creep along her thighs, up her torso, stroke delicately across her jawbone, her chin, her cheeks, her lips.

She turns her head and snaps at one, sinks her teeth into almost-wood.The vine whips back, out of mouth range, and delilah chuckles. The statue tips its head up.

“You're not so worn as during our previous dalliances.” Delilah’s voice thrums around the room, leaves a stripe of heat running up the back if Grim’s neck, the hairs on her arms standing straight up, a flicker like a human figure in her peripheral vision, but instead overlayed on the statue.

“Sweet, boring Hypatia has business to attend to tomorrow,” Grim growls, sneering. “And who am I to deny my dry, giving sister the small pleasure of eating her dinner with _Vasco_ ,” she snarls, twists in her bindings again. The ones on her arms tighten, don't _quite_ dig in, but nearly. “I didn’t have the time to deal with things before i came back here.”

Delilah gives a small “hmmp,” something almost like a laugh. The statue grinds, raises its hand, and nearly leers as the vines grow higher, lift Grim further from the ground.

“And so you proposition me, beg me to lift you from the earth, fuck you until you can barely walk, and send you on your way?”

“Yes,” Grim says, strains forward. There’s one vine, close, almost close enough to rub against. If she can reach that, Delilah will relent, will give her what she wants. It’s so close.

Delilah snorts.

“You want to fuck against the blood briars?” she asks.

“Yes,” Grim replies, strains forward more.

“So be it,” Delilah agrees, and her statue grinds again, with her hands behind her back, chin inclined, looking down her nose at Grim, pulled back so she faces the ceiling, one large vine behind the small of her back for support, her legs spread wide, one last vine between her legs, pressed against her. She thrusts against it, one, two, three, four, then grinds her hips in a slow circle, chokes out a gasp, air rasping across her tongue, into her lungs, as she repeats the pattern--one, two, three, four, slow circle, one, two, three, four, slow circle, one, two, three, four, slow circle.

Delilahs statue doesn't move, regards Grim with quiet, detached interest.

“How did the kill go?” she asks, when Grim whimpers, loud enough to be heard over the creak of the blood briars, the groan of the building around them when the wind gusts, the sound of fabric on rough wood. Grim's whimpers turn to something like strangled laughter, three quick huffs like it can't quite become a laugh.

“He didn't see me until I was in his mansion.” She grinds against the blood briar in a slow circle, and the blood briar delicately winds across the top of Grim's thigh, lays across her hipbone, twists around behind her. “He was alone in his _study_ , writing letters.” She flexes against the restraints around her arms, turns her head to look at one side, then the other, jerks her hips against the vine between her legs and her arms against the vines around them. “He tried to shoot me with a pistol.” Her voice is strained, her hips thrusting slowly, breath ragged in the back of her throat. “He missed.” A grin spreads across her face, and her thrusting picks up. “I took his arm off first, shoved it in his mouth so he couldn't scream. Barricaded the door so no one else could get in. Broke his ribs, while he was still breathing, crunch, crunch, crunch.” Her hips are erratic, her breathing labored, fists clenching and unclenching as the vines around her tighten--the one between her legs moving against her in long, even strokes, the vines around her legs pulling her legs up and around, trapping the briar between them, the ones around her arms pulling behind her, forcing her shoulders open, exposing her chest. “I broke his other arm, ripped open his throat, sat back and watched as he bled out. His eyes were big, scared of me, scared of what I could do.” Grim squeaks, high in the back of her throat, shudders, twists her hips, tries to gain as much friction as she can. “I painted ‘the crown killer is watching’ on his walls in his blood when he was dead.” She shudders one last time, gasps, and then tries to squirm away. The briar between her legs stops moving, unwinds itself, and the others gently deposit her on the floor again. Her knees give under her a little, but she stays upright.

Delilahs statue grinds, smiles down at Grim, raises one hand.

“You’ve been very good, Alex. I’ll contact you again when there is someone new to...remove.”

“Of course,” Grim replies, shifts from foot to foot, looks around Breanna's office. The woman is nowhere to be seen. There are pieces of whalebone scattered around the desk, documents spread across the floor. A painting in the corner has been ruined, blood briars wound through it, paint peeling from the canvas. It looks like t may have been a portrait if the empress, once. Is she the final target? Is that where this will end?

That would be a delightful end to this.

Delilahs statue grinds back to its neutral position, and Grim take it as her cue to leave--out the window, across the rooftops, back toward Addermire Institute.


End file.
